


fjäll med stjärnor

by Tarredion



Series: fjäll med stjärnor - universe [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Not Human, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Human Phil, M/M, Magic, Mutual Pining, READ ALL THE TAGS, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Transformation, dragon dan, dragon!AU, even if it's mostly fluff and adventure, eventually, no they will not get together as human/dragon, they'll tell you the plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 10:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21372613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarredion/pseuds/Tarredion
Summary: a human's and a dragon's paths crossing is unusual, but in this case it was in alignment with the stars and a decision as old as time itself.Aka Dan is a dragon desperate for freedom and Phil is a human who's only wish in life is to meet and learn from the dragon race.(title is Swedish for 'scales and stars')
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: fjäll med stjärnor - universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582708
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	1. elyseisk

**Author's Note:**

> When I say slow burn I mean slow burn- you have been warned, romance will essentially take forever to be reached in this fic. Have a good read all the same!

Faint pastel yellow sunlight breaking through the thick silver mist stung his eyes ever so slightly. He closed them minimally, to optimise his view while reducing the pain. The rays reflected off his strong, metallic, black scales, making every inch of his lengthy body facing the direction of the rising sun glitter extravagantly. Each and every scale flexed as he stretched his rigid muscles, gracefully moving upwards.

Dan was always up for a late morning flight. Rising higher through the lingering dawn’s mist, as he did now, cold droplets would condense onto his warm, fuming body, making a relaxing chill run up and down his spine and creating a shimmering glaze all over his skin. 

He dared to imagine the beauty of it from an outside perspective, its dazzling glory strong in his mind from when he used to fly with his mother as a young child. She always did try to tell him dark scales could be just as pretty as vibrant ones, he remembered. Not that he talked to any of his family often, anymore, but it was one of few fond memories.

Every flap of his ginormous coal black wings echoed in his ears, taking him higher and higher.

Somewhere far below lay the Tarragon Gorge, or Valley of Dragons, submerged by the shadow of the mountain range surrounding it, and still drenched in the mist which only got thicker the closer to the trees, moss, and wetland ground you went. Even at the height of five thousand feet, anything below his swishing tail was covered by an impenetrable blanket of silver smoke.

He rose higher still, making the mist swirl around him with every move and flap.

Dan’s thoughts stretched out, opening for images of cold, iron grey, tall mountains. Scary, threatening spikes protruding from each ridge, and any smooth sides a rare sight. He knew that at the speed he was climbing, he’d spot their dumbfounding beauty within short.

Barely able to finish his ponderings, the mist turned over into thick, white, fluffy cloud. He tightened his muscles, pressed his wings down full force, and with one surging breath his muscular silhouette broke through into the open blue sky.

And  _ oh! _ there they were! Beautifully unmoving, the five tallest grey peaks in the eastern mountain range, were grazed by his catlike eyes. His ebony and thin, long pupils widened and extended reflexively to the exposure of light, within the warm honey-glowing brown pools which were his irises. They sat high on his face, surrounded by arched bones and puffy cheek.

The sun was a half circle of fire and pearl, he saw as he ascended. It was cut off on the middle by the line of clouds. They grew darker and especially turbulent where the snowclad mountain split their marmoreal patterns. 

Watching the golden rays of light the mountains reflected, Dan’s eyes stung more and more, making it harder to see the surroundings clearly. Yet the shine filled him with a remarkable sense of elation and triumph.

In that moment, he wasn’t just on top of the world, but he felt it.

Dan also felt unbelievably brave. The wind rushing in his ears, the flaps of his wings echoing loudly, adrenaline rushing through his blood; he needed an outlet, and that fast. He felt like he could burst!

With the only solution he knew how, as a young dragon of a mere 180 human years, he slowed the motion of his wings, extended his neck gracefully… slowly… magnificently… 

And with his airway maximally widened and all of him at at a standstill seven thousand feet in the air-

\- Dan let out a deafening roar! of excitement. It seemed to go on for many seconds, sending a wave of shock barreling across thousands of acres, shaking both the air, sky, unseen ground, and the snow clad strong peaks. His scales glistened brightly once more, his spine curved backwards, head lolling to the left once the drawn out sound was replaced with vacuum…

Then his black body keeled over itself, and began falling at tremendous speed, the blanket of clouds racing closer as he tumbled. His scales relaxed and formed a closed armor over his skin. Each and every one of his limbs numbed and limpened. All that was in his vision streaked and stretched, encased in soft white rays and blotches of blur.

But as is knowledge even of us common folk, dragons have impeccable reaction speed, and they always put it to good use. In a mere quarter of a second, Dan tightened himself, gained control of his flailing wings and tail, pressed his arms and legs close to his body. And swoosh! he went, back up into the air!

If dragons could laugh, this is when he’d have done so, a self satisfied and smug one, at the shocked faces of imaginary onlookers. Imaginary, for he knew well enough that no human nor animal could see him up here, and birds rarely got close. Not just in fear of being prey.

A satisfied gleam reflected from his eyes, as he glided silently above the cotton fluff. His mouth was crooked, twisted into a half smirk, bearing his long, sharp teeth.

Dan continued soaring, the furthermost peak growing bigger in his sights, letting the wind carry him and gradually lifting him.

When he reached the peak, snow still glittering atop in small crevices despite the June weather, he stretched his feet out, bracing for a landing with his metallic claws ready to grip. As he took to his landing, a couple of smaller rocks came loose and they rolled down the side of the mountain, a click! and a clack! and the occasional tap! tap! smack! following.

Dan paid it no mind, but rather held his head high and surveyed the fluffy, seamless, pastel view. His stomach rumbled, lightly. The sun had now risen above the cloud horizon, and was now a direct beacon of life.

Wondering about what may lay beyond the beacon and the horizon far away, beyond the thick smoke of the eastern ridge, Dan sniffed the air expectantly, letting out a puff of smoke, and then spun his tail ever so slightly.

He had heard tales from far away lands, from his father and mother and neighbours’ adventures. Of vast cerulean deep waters called oceans, pristine white beaches lining their shores. Of plains and grasslands with no conceivable end unlike the ones in the valley, where you could fly for days and not see a shift of environment nor village. Of scorching deserts, frozen glaciers, the tallest peaks in the world, and mountains which were essentially inanimate dragons for they spewed fire and roared ferociously.

_ Somewhere out there _ , he thought,  _ there was also someone who had heard of dragons traversing deep valleys and dark caves _ .  _ Guarding their treasure and smothering their eggs _ . 

_ Someone _ (a little human just like us, perhaps,)  _ that envisioned a magnificent dragon with glittering scales soaring high above the clouds to escape the mist that came with dawn. _

Dan snorted contentedly at the thought of the little human he had never seen, scoffed, and then gurgled deeply. _One day,_ he thought, _I’m not going to be stuck in the constricting Valley of Dragons._ _Bound by the other dragons laws, pressures, and restrictions._ _No, one day, I’m going on an adventure, to find that little human, and myself._

And on top of that mountain he stood for a while, watching the sun rise even higher, the sky growing paler, lighter, paler, and lighter. Soon the only thing differentiating it from the blanket was the faint undertones of teal and blue.

The sun strong and high above his head, Dan decided the rumblings of his stomach needed to be tended to. He latched his talons deep into the rock, and when secure enough he spun around. Now he was facing towards the base of the mountain, his pointy nose flexing hungrily, any waft of fresh meat easily detectable, yet still highly untraceable in such a thin atmosphere.

As he stretched his wings, rocks falling beneath his moving body, he watched the breakings and coils in the clouds intently.

One swirl of greyish dark cloud after another. The reminiscence of mist also rose higher, mingling with the reflections from the snow and ice lacing itself up the peak.

Resting his gaze outwards of a particularly deep dent in the rock, Dan loosened the grip of his talons just enough for a powerful jump, and then he let all of it go. He fell into a nosedive, pressing his wings to his sides, the wind rushing by and a grey blur speeding by.

Diving through the swirling clouds, he reached the point of breakthrough, to see that the mist had significantly thinned. You could now see most of the eastern side of the valley, emerald green forests and mossy rocks lining the mountainsides and dotting the landscape around them. A ravine cut through the middle, running like an exposed wound through the valley east to west, a wide creek at the bottom and waterfalls cascading down over the edge into it, sourced from the smaller streams and rivers mostly meandering down from the northern mountains. A grassland, emptier and emptier of trees the more towards the southwest you’d go, had small breezes running through it, rippling the grass gently. It looked almost the same as any June day, and the same as when he had left it in morning hours.

Yet now the valley, in its luxurious green glory, was visibly filled with movement and sounds of life. The cries of the wild and rattles of trees overrides even the swishing of wind around his body and pounding in his ears.

Dan spreads his wings, finally, and falls back. He perches upon a tall pine on the edge of the largest woods this side of mountains high. There’s a recognizable smell of food in the air.

His mouth waters. Eyes shifts. 

_ Prey is near _ .  _ Hungry _ . _ I’m the predator. _

¨ ¨ 

Time is deceptive and malleable, dragged and futilely perceived, a prison of its own constraints. When based only on observations of the sun, moon, stars, planets, seasons, and the growth and downfall of life, it is ambiguous. Time works on these restraints, and time builds itself on a concept way beyond our knowledge. To try and define and not just believed is dangerous but the way of not doing so has brought downfall upon many empires and the individual may suffer deeply.

Phil, unused to the damp and crisp environment of the magical valleys, wiped his forehead with his left sleeve. You could see the stain it left, which soaked through the deep blue wool fabric, but within short it froze up into tiny glittering crystals.

Moss crunched and branches broke underneath his grey hide boots. Shadows danced around where he stepped, around the oak and pine trees which rose around him occasionally, and the silence only broke for the occasional loud snap or the distant cry of an animal. And there where not many of those traversing around at this time of day, he had noticed.

Somewhere beyond the mist swirling about, soft and grey, Phil knew a ridge between two smaller mountains would appear. It was his pass to the valley he was searching for. He had seen a glimpse or two of the mountains looming on either side of him, tall and far away as they were they were heard to spot, and that was only before the mist sunk upon the surrounding landscape in the time around dawn.

According to the aged parchment map he clutched in his right fist, the range curved around in a U shape, and he was just coming upon the final section of mountains and ridges before he’d be able to see his goal.

There were more crackles underneath his boots, a step at a time, and one sounded suspiciously like bones. Rather squeamish, Phil winced and hurried his pace along the invisible path, coming upon another cluster of woods rising before him, following the brisk noise of a rippling freshwater stream.

Had he been on a mere hunting trip he’d have gone barefoot. But no, Phil was on an adventure to find the unsung heroes of the stories and tales he’d been told in his home village since he could do as much as listen and follow them, and not just crying and eating and sleeping. His mother and brother had been the main storytellers, but many legends were common among civilians too, and so at the occasional bonfire night he’d gone to, there had been others reciting them to him.

You see, Phil, was not just a mortal human like me and yourself, but also a noble’s child, who had been trained and taught both lovingly but in the arts, crafts, and legends of ancient, far away lands. 

Dragons fascinated him most of all. And that is why he had set upon the Valley of Dragons. There are other obscure names for it, but Phil prefered to use this one until he could meet the dragons themselves and learn their name for it. After all, it was their valley and home, so it should be within their very right to call it whatever they wished.

He had begun his trek 15 days and 15 nights earlier. It was by pure chance and luck that his home city was the closest of the remaining known, and not abandoned, ones to the dragon’s supposed lair. Some suspected that dragons had terrorised and destroyed the other villages and towns, and eaten the inhabitants, but Phil knew differently. He knew dragons were most likely kind and calm beings, albeit magnificent and intimidating to the smaller man. (There was after all no proof the dragons drove the other humans away).

From his bedroom window you could even see the southernmost mountain of the chain looming on the horizon.

His backpack straps dug into him, his 3 foot sword and provisions felt heavier than rocks, dragging him down. That felt like enough to find a spot to rest, for Phil, so he glanced around the woods for that spot, or a cold stream to drink from, slowing his walk. He saw a smooth, rising rock protruding from a hill in a clearing, clear as day from between the trees, and he approached it.

Just as he was about to put his equipment down, Phil saw a strange mark etched into the smooth front, and jumped back in surprise, almost like a meerkat. He dropped his bag, and stared begrudgingly at it. Waves of familiarity rose and rolled within him, and as he gently stroke the rist with his fingertips, an idea, an image more specifically, popped into his head. He stepped back, filled with eagerness, and scrambled to reopen his partially crumpled map. 

_There!_ he thought. His hand pricked and prodded at an identical mark on the paper, jotted down in half faded, murky red ink. It was aged, but not quite as old as the map, and it made him wonder why that could be. But then again, _all it could mean was that the stone with the etchings was a waymarker to the valley!_ _Or maybe a warning sign…_ He decided to not think about that last point.

The appearance of a new clue sent a rush of adrenaline through him. Need for rest (but not water) forgotten, Phil grabbed his equipment once more and walked to the other side of the rock from the mark. As he ascended down a slight hill, the sound of the stream and drew nearer as the woods grew clearer.

When he reached it, the water was pearly white and jumping. 

He decide to fill up his waterskin and shower his throat. Then he trekked on across the rocky landscape, the occasional bush, shrub, and tree rising around him. When he passed another woodland, and light cleared his sights, a ridge became visible in the far distance, towering over a cluster of vines and bushes. 

Agony spiked up his legs as he went up and up the slope. The mist had now cleared and was replaced by a strange faint green glow oozing from the ground. As he reached the top of the slope, it almost disappeared, but a groaning and growling and sloshing mix of sounds in the distance replaced it.

Anxiety tumbled through Phil, and the excitement in him was replaced by an intimidating nervousness, fear, and giddiness. He got on all four to hide from any potential dangers, and clambered up the last of the way. As he glanced up over the edge, hands grasping at rough jugged pebbles, he saw something he couldn’t possibly believe.

It was gigantic, wondrous, and a- 

_ No it couldn’t possibly be... _ Phil immediately dove back down, back to the ridge, and his heart was beating out of his chest. Sweat poured down his forehead and literally blinded him for a moment.

He decided to peak back up again, this time with a glaze of curiosity winding his spine. It sat shadow-like and silent about 30 feet from the bottom of the ridge.

A beautiful, long, lizard-like figure, wearing big batlike wings, and covered in radiatingly metallic black scales, sat hunched over a bleeding carcass, which he assumed used to be a deer. Ferociously, the figure dug its pristine white sharp teeth into the deer, tearing meat out in chunks, blood splattering everywhere. A river of ruby, thick liquid oozed from it, watering and flooding the ground. All the while the dragon used its magnificent, strong talons to hold the carcass in place.

Eyes wide, Phil watched its head snapping at the head of the carcass. With one tear it was off, flying unceremoniously through the air as if though it was merely a small pebble, not by size but by weight. It whizzed past, bouncing of the ridge just a meter to Phil’s right, before rolling down, down, down, and stopping in a tangle of some wild snares. The dragon’s gigantic chocolate eyes followed it, potentially grazing across the spot where he sat, but it just let out a puff of smoke, a grunt, and showed no obvious signs of having seen him.

He watched the creature apprehensively, shaking, and obviously scared out of his wits no matter his love for dragons, seeing as that was proof of enormous strength.

When it continued its snapping and tearing, either having not seen him or paying him no mind, Phil crouched and turned beginning his walk back down the hill. He struggled to gain footing on the loose ground, but it was worth the effort and potential injury.

As he widened the gap in the branches, he saw the true size of the deer’s head. It astonished him greatly, and reaffirmed a belief of actual magic blooming within the valley. He thought:  _ It must be at least four times the size of a normal deer’s! _

¨ ¨

In the corner of his eye, the little human’s raven black hair peeked back up over the edge of the ridge. Dan let out another puff of smoke through his nostrils, watching them silently, but quickly continued tearing into the meat. Thick warm blood swirled in his jaws. The taste was as delicious as ever, but the meat itself wasn’t quite fatty enough for his taste. It would’ve been in high spring, considering this deer was a doe. 

Raven, as he had decide to call them, was still hiding, but their gaze pierced. Curiosity itched in his limbs, yet he tried to ignore it, and most of all, deny it.

He went on eating, but eventually he couldn’t go on. His meal was growing rather thin, and there was also the debacle to tackle of the individual watching him from atop the hill. So he did what dragons do best. 

Wiping his scaly, yet smooth, black snout free of residue and blood, by inelegantly pressing it into the dirt, Dan cleaned himself up, huffing and puffing and letting out blows of smoke in the process. When he felt at least mildly presentable, unlike the bloodstained ground around him, he used his left front foot to push the carcass out of view. It rolled, across the muted brown mud and wet grass, a couple of feet away. It was still oozing with a delicious and at the same time vile smell. 

Pushing his talons deep into the soggy, damp earth, he elegantly leaned his neck forward, then bowed his head. A sign of respect and trust among dragons, seeing as it greatly exposes their necks. He hoped this human at least had a vague idea what it meant. Nobody entered the valley by accident.

He was unable to see anything but a particularly dented spot in the ground before him, but after releasing a puff of unthreatening smoke, he heard clambering and pebbles dropping and falling. He closed his eyes with relief. They must have gotten the message.

Then the clambering stopped. The presence of the human was close and he opened his eyes, his dark lids unfolding and the light dancing and streaming into his retinas. Rather bright. 

Pale skin clad with well-made blue garments. Gold and silver embroidery lined the edges. A bag of hide hung atop wide shoulders, a polished sword swung from the side. A black quiff framed a face with angles and cheekbones. There was a certain glow about their features, which he was unable pinpoint. They walked towards him, gently and rather hesitantly, but Dan sensed a buzz of elation radiating from them.

Dragons can’t speak human languages out loud. They may think rather eloquently and articulately, but their vocal chords were really not adapted to speak that way, since all dragons can open links between minds. Originally just with their own species, but now they could with any intelligent creature. He decided in this moment to open such a link.

** _Who are you and why are you here..._ **

A low rumbling escaped his lips as he thought the words. Raven jumped back in surprise, eyes widening. **_They must feel terribly frightened,_** Dan thought, **_being spoken to not only by a dragon but through their mind!_**

The thought of forbidden meetings and connections and reasons to stay away from any other intelligent beings (though most of the local dragon population didn’t care to think of humans that way, but him and his friends, for example, did.)  ** _You’re an intimidating mighty dragon! Listen to pa’! Do not feel for puny, meaningless mortals! _ ** His tail whiplashed at the last words. He disliked those words the least.

Immediately he realised he had forgotten to shut down the mind link between him and Raven, meaning he had heard everything. Dan immediately wanted to beat himself up for it. 

He averted his gaze. A pout and a frown was brought upon Raven’s bright, pretty features, and it made him inexplicably sad and disappointed.

You should know a dragon is not often moved by humans, in fact some despise them or at least avoid them at all cost, but it seemed Dan was highly susceptible to those blue puppy eyes, for when the aching in his wide dragon chest became too heavy and intense to bear, so he growled longingly and turned back towards the human.

** _Tell me who you are… _ ** he said, and when Raven looked rather confused once more, he added:  ** _Answer my question. Out loud. _ ** And now the dragon was the one frowning.  ** _Please._ **

“Oh! I’m.. Phil. Philip.” they said. A friendly smile grew on their lips.

Dan scoffed.  ** _I suppose your parents gave you that name since you spent a lot of time in the stables as a child._ ** Phil giggled.

“No no!” he said. “It was my great grandfathers name. Everyone talks more bout how ‘‘he should stop dreaming about dragons so much!’’” There was a hint of sadness in his voice, and Dan felt a connection and a surge of empathy. He had been there.

** _You’re welcome to take a seat._ ** he offered. Phil smiled, and pointedly did in a spot that wasn’t covered in blood, shuddering as he hit the icy grass.  ** _So why did you come here, Phil, oh dreamer of dragons… _ ** The theatrics weren’t uncommon for his usual mannerisms.

“Well, uh, if it wasn’t already obvious,” he said, “to meet the dragons. Like you.”

** _Looking for Tarragon Gorge, you are._ **

“So that’s what you call it!”

Dan’s eyebrows furrowed at that. Phil noticed and was suddenly shaking with laughter. He gripped his stomach, rocking back and forth. “Sorry, sorry.” he laughed, then he looked down into the ground with a small smile. He got rather quiet. “It’s just, uh, one of those things I’ve been wanting to find out. About the drag- bluhbluh…” 

He paused, picking at the dirt and pulling the grass. “Um, valley, I mean.” he added, seeming rather flustered and embarrassed.

** _What we call it, I suppose._ **

“Yeh…” Red dotted his cheeks.

A rumble escaped from the depths of Dan’s stomach. He let out a huff, a gruff attempt at a half-laugh. The air rumbled, Phil’s hair stood on end and flew back with the force of the wind.  ** _That is fine! _ ** he said,  ** _I want to know a lot about humans, too. How about a chat?_ **

Eagerly nodding, Phil shuffled closer to the dragon, no longer afraid, and he laid down on all four legs, curling up in a spiral shape with his tail around him, wings already folded. Phil got the hint as the dragon nudged him with one of his paws. He moved ever closer, leaning up against the side of Dan’s shoulder blade. His hand (strangely enough) instinctively stroked the side of the long neck, the metallic scales smooth and rough at the same time underneath his palm, and it was rather comforting for the both of them, so Dan decided not to mention it. 

And that’s how they sat for hours on end, until shadows and darkness sank upon the valley once more, and the cries of animals were stifled, and stars appeared faintly in the now cloudless evening sky, the mountains still shimmering orange and gold high above.

They talked and they talked all the while, until Dan was no more than a silhouette not much darker than the surroundings, at which point Phil’s chest was heaving slowly, and all four eyelids were too heavy and their brains more sludge than were able to concentrate on not slurring their words. The last thing both of them thought before silence and unconsciousness took them into its arms was:  _ Why does it feel like we have a connection I’ve never felt before... _

///

Evils may possess what power can grant and they love no more than enchantments them can’t befell

Mortal may have to hearts content if they can reach and sparingly will hand out affection to strangers’ yelp

Gods break make and take whatever existence decant and any tenderness is just softened retell

But a dragonborn will only seize what it truly wants yet they guard it harsh long and hard as time itself

  
  



	2. transversal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> transversal: straight line that cuts two or more straight lines - like our fates

Sunlight, golden and bright, broke through the silverish morning clouds when Dan stirred from his deep sleep, his long, black, and scaly body stretching as he woke. The ground was wet and smelled of petrichor, while the branches and leaves of the trees around them hung low and sagged towards the ground under the heaviness of the droplets. A thick mist danced through the forest and across the plains, glittering silver in the light as any other day.

Dan let his black and partially translucent eyelids flutter open, his pupils flexing in an attempt to get accustomed to the light. His gaze scanned the silent woods for signs of life, for threats, before he stretched once more, like a gigantic cat. Each scale took a breath as he did, shimmering softly and contracting as he moved.

He thought back to the hours before he slept. Remembering the strange meeting and feelings of yesterday, he curled back up in the dew and purred gently as he thought of the black hair of the boy and the way his small, gentle hands tenderly stroked across his skin, and how soothing it had been. He laid there for a while, soaking in the gentle sun, his thoughts wandering away from his conscious mind, when a huff and a cough followed a whimper by his side properly woke him up.

The boy, or rather young man (dragons have never been quite sure how we age in comparison with them), still sat slumped against his wide dragon chest. His ribcage sank and rose carefully and normally, but his heart rate was pulsating and quick, rattling Dan’s body, as if he was having a nightmare.

Another whimper rolled across his lips, this time as if he was in agonizing pain, and he mumbled words that Dan did not understand. Still he felt his own glistening eyes grow wide and round, the visible pain of his new friend manifesting itself as an ache in his bones and a wretched pounding in his chest.

Then those pretty blue eyes split open, his pale eyelids disappearing and compressing in a flash.

Phil’s eyes were radioactive, swimming with life and formed by indescribable shades of the most gorgeous, eye-catching colours. Now they were brimmed with crystal tears, wet and shaking, ready to pop out of his head. Feeling a sharp nudge in his chest next to his heart, he perked out his glistening and snorting nose, partially willingly and partially not. For a second, with fear bubbling up all across his features, Phil shied away with a twitch of his limbs, but when the warmth from Dan’s breath carefully and soothingly swirled onto his face he relaxed against his side again.

Dan watched, in awe and comfort and rather sympathetically (for when he was a hatchling his mother did the same to him when he was in fear) as Phil leaned his sweaty, damp forehead onto his nose, leaning the rest of his body neck and down onto his side. His breathing hitched every three seconds or so but his pulse slowed, as if the comfort and closeness of the dragon’s rough skin and scales made him feel like a baby in their mother’s arms.

The silence of the gleaming emerald forest around them stretched on and on, and still Dan watched the way the tears in Phil’s eyes fell or dried, feeling helpless all the while. The clouds left with the dancing morning winds and soon he could see silhouettes of the mountains towering above them, whenever he had to and could pry his eyes away from Phil’s, in a feeble attempt to stifle the burning. It was unexplainable, really, and at the same time the swirling emotion clawing into his every organ told him he didn’t need or want to, or even could, make it stop.

Eventually Phil seemed to be well rested, as well as drifting away from the stress following his bad dream, and Dan nudged him with his nose again, which this time triggered a flow of soft giggles to flow out of his mouth instead of silent sobs or tears drifting slowly down his cheeks.

“Why do you stick around with me?” Phil hiccuped between his giggles, wiping the grin of Dan’s snout the second he did. “Like, don’t you have super important dragon business to attend, rather than hanging around with a meek little human like me?”

** _I don’t find you meek. Little, yes, but so are most things in comparison to dragons._ **

“So I’m not..”

** _I can tell you.. you’re well more important than whatever business I’d- _ ** Dan thought, and then his stomach rumbled loudly, shaking Phil enough to push him off and make him fall sideways onto the ground from his leaning position. He broke back into giggles, rolling on the ground, as he shyly averted his gaze from the human, his hide tingling and sweltering beneath his scales.  ** _Well… except hunger, maybe._ **

Phil clutched his stomach, his crinkled eyes meeting Dan’s for the brief second he was able to catch a breath. “M-maybe?!” he grinned, and pushed a heavy, content sigh through his teeth. The dragon smiled, toothy and grimace-esque. As best as he could, at least.

** _Maybe. _ ** he thought. The truth was it was way more than just a simple maybe.

He cursed himself under his breath, foul as the smoke and unclean air that swirled from his black and droplet-rimmed nostrils. There was an inkling of another itch in his wide and heaving chest, but whatever it  _ was  _ and wherever it came from, he wanted it gone as much as he wanted it to stay. 

It was a strange urge. Really, really weird and strange. Then again, all of this was strange, and Dan had always been the strangest one out of all the dragons. It seemed this was just meant to happen to him. Like him and Phil were meant to meet.

¨ ¨

Phil watched as the majestic dragon took off from the ground, Dan’s wide and strong, dark grey (matt) wings sending him up into the blue sky, his whole muscular body glistening in the light. The way the speckles of gold and reflected silvery black danced across the sky, it seemed as if the whole sheet of baby blue was covered in sunkissed and gorgeous freckles. A bit like Phil’s own skin.

Watching the form disappear into a tiny dot and then nothingness above, soon only the towering and dark, snowclad mountains rising in his view, he let out a small sigh.

The forest was glowing around him, bright and green and filled to the brim with life, and still it felt emptier than ever. Both his heart and his environment. Phil was unsure how his attachment to his new friends had grown so strong so fast, over just a couple of hours, in fact. Still, that did not faze him. His (too) rumbling stomach and dry, quipping throat did.

He climbed down from the plateau, into the forest on the other side. He brought his backpack with him, slung over his shoulder, and sword held in hand. He had provisions with him, yes, but he’d been taught that getting familiar with the environment and its resources is the key to survival. He had to save his provisions, if there ends up being no food on the way back, or if he gets trapped somewhere he can’t hunt.

Birdsong rang through the forest, accompanying his lonely footsteps crunching in the verdure. Each time Phil saw a flash of a shadow between the tall trees, his head whipped around at enormous speed, thoughts brought back to the dragon and his quick, dark shape rising towards the sky. Of course, each time he catched a glimpse of the creature, it was no more dragon than him, typically a startled deer or boar.

A couple of hours later, say three or four in our terms, when Phil had had no more luck at catching another glimpse of a dragon (as if he hadn’t talked with one all night long) than catching even a squirrel, he almost thought he might’ve gone mad. Hallucinated the whole thing, or something.  _ My brother would certainly say so _ , Phil thought bitterly, kicking at loose pebbles littering the trampled ground in the meadow he was crossing. No matter how much he loved his brother, and his brother loved him, he would - Martyn had never been much of a believer in dragons.

Phil passed stones and boulders big as houses, etched with rough mystical symbols, and rough trees towering above the rest of the forest, pine and oak and birch alike. And yet he had no luck in his hunt, yet again, only once when he very nearly intercepted a small bird shuffling across the soft, mossy forest floor.

Finally, he heard the sound of thundering water rising above the rest of the noise within the crowded forest, and the slouch of his back straightened out, the trudge of his step transforming into a chipper skip.

He flung both the straps of his bag off, and clutched it hard within his closed fist. With the other hand he securely clipped his sword to the side of the bag, all the same trying not to stumble over his own feet. He’d come onto rather rough, stony terrain within the forest, with harder ground beneath his boots, and sparser trees, creating even worse circumstances for his already clumsy and flimsy body.

The final trek up to the edge of a cliff is always the toughest. It’s the point when you think you can see your destination, and adrenaline mixes with anticipation in your veins to make excitement, but the ground suddenly begins to tilt beneath your heavy, tired feet. Phil felt that sensation now, his whole body weighing him down as he dragged himself up to where the clear blue waterfall began falling from one plateau to the next, beginning its descent from one river to another. 

What Phil saw when he looked down, perched upon a rock next to the flowing water, and high above the ravine, amazed his untrained eyes. He might’ve been out and seen the world around his town, and seen a lot in the last sixteen days, but he’d never seen the sight he saw now.

The crystal clear water, penetrated by brilliant sunlight from all angles, fell into the ravine in a flurry of flourishing mist and droplets of brilliantly glimmering aqua. The jets and streams cascading off the cliff flew in all directions, bouncing off the smooth silver sides with great destructive power, all the while creating cold, rainbow-colored explosions. Some droplets defied the natural forces of the world, and soared high up into the air, spraying even the cliffs above (like the one Phil stupidly sat on, unmoving, mouth gaping) with icy, fresh liquid.

Each strewn about drop shone so brightly in the scorching midday sun, that you could have mistaken the ravine for being on fire instead of filling with water. At the very bottom, a bright blue belt snaked through the rough and calloused stone, continuing the river and disappearing away behind tall and darkened cliffs.

He’d never seen anything like it.

Phil sat there, eyes wide and curious, until the sound of the waterfall became too loud and too much for his poor ears to bear. With agile movement, a swing of his lanky legs, he jumped off the stone, simultaneously swinging the backpack back onto his back. He’d need it to be secure before climbing down.

And you might think he’d be stupid to do so, risking his life just for some water, when he could simply have drank from the river by his side. In such a case, you’ve only shown that you are not as attentive as Phil Lester, and didn’t notice the rough, carved out steps in the rock face.

He’d never risk his life for a simple drink, but for a glimpse of something magical and never before seen.. not a big stretch. After all, he’s the only man of his time brave, curious, believing, and maybe foolish enough to wander straight into the valley supposedly* filled with dragons, Tarragon Gorge, without anything more than a 3 foot sword.

(*before he knew, of course)

He found his footing, hoisting himself down onto the first platform, then taking the first few steps down only seconds later. Unsurely, and as carefully as one can do with a lack of coordination, testing the waters (but not literally), and watching for any crumbs of rock chafing or falling off. Great dangers could be found in something as small and insignificant as crumbling rock.

Once he found the staircase safe and wide enough for comfort, he began to climb down. He traversed both the large and flat, as well as the tiny and rough steps, with great care, making his way further and further down and into the enormous cleft, walls towering on all sides.

All thought for all but mighty dragons and forgotten secrets had become lost, and so, unbeknownst to Phil, a big creature followed him with its gaze, dangerous and heaving sighs..

¨ ¨

Soaring through the sky, cold wind rushing through his scales and lifting his wings, Dan cleared both his mind and his breath, puffing out smoke through his ashy, dusty nostrils, occasionally flaring flame and fire like he hadn’t been able to do in hours. Still, his thoughts stayed on the man with black hair, and his witty mind, as well as his fascination with dragons like him.

Yet a worry itched and crawled beneath his sleek black hide and leathery skin. It reminded him of worries rooted deep, not of human contact or family despise, but of anxiety and rejection. Surely, despite holding some genuine interest now (Dan completely waters down Phil’s appreciation and admiration here, if you didn’t already see) he’d surely come up short and disappointed soon enough. Reject him, and his friendship.

After all, what would a human with so many wonders ahead and families to build and traditions to uphold want to do with him?

Indigo lines drew across the sky, mixing with the fading clouds. Fiery colours splashed across the wide canvas of blues, draping from the horizon halfway to the roof, pushing the tall and mighty mountains into the foreground of the breathtaking picture.

Dan was unsure of how long he’d flown around for, simply battling within his mind, letting the winds carry him above the ground, with no destination in mind. From far below, he was sure the creatures of the forest saw him only as a tiny blurry speck racing across the shades of blue and bright, if any of them paid him any mind.

_ Most likely not _ , his tired mind mused unhelpfully, and he grimaced as he passed another dwindling cloud. At the very least there wasn’t going to be any rain tonight, or this afternoon, as the paling pink light drew into and alluded to.

Then there was a slight shift in the air, the northbound wind suddenly flipping to the east, and the energies of the surrounding world turned bitter and sour. To Dan, it felt like all the flowers wilted beneath his feet while he stood upon a blooming summer’s field, or even like his father- well, his father-

He spat the two supposedly adjacent words out, stinging his tongue. It’d been a long time since he’d ever wanted them to be.

The smell of danger, or maybe just uncertainty (Dan could never tell) coursed through the air. His wide wings flapped and then flung aside, disarray, the wind nearly tipping him over as it catched up.

The image of mountains faltered on the horizon. Vision blurry and rimming with droplets, he spun, and he twisted, and he turned, blinking hard, and then..

The drag of the air pulled him upwards once more, steadying him, just as another dark shape swished by.

** _Fancy seeing you out here, Danny, _ ** echoed in his mind, an equally strong and distasteful roar rippling the air. Dan had never before felt such disappointment at the sight of another dragon, and so tail snapping, eyes rolling, he pulled his neck back and let the wind carry him by his wings, higher still. Evasion, the best tactic, had the brightly red, winged lizard not been as skilled a flyer as him.  ** _Been a few days since you were home, back at your nest.. gonna tell me where you’ve been? Your mother has been, well, mildly worried each time I’ve come around to ask for you._ **

Dan had absolutely no intention of staying for a chat, let alone revealing anything about Phil. If he could, he’d rather take a deep dive right here, and disappear into the mist of the mountains, never to speak to Samson ever again.

¨ ¨

Phil held onto the cliffside, nails, and even the pads of his fingers, digging into the cracks and crevices within the stone. His grip was no stronger than usual, nor was it any weaker, but he still seemed to be losing it. The end of the staircase was near, so very close, and yet with a single slip of his footing, he might never reach it.

The sounds of the waterfall had since long faded into the background, the further he’d come into the ravine. However, beneath the platform snaked the river, still pushing forward, and it made an awful lot of noise. Creaking, and swooshing, as it flew forth through the frail pale grey and yellow stone, small stones breaking off and running wild, dancing through the water.

Sparring himself against the cliff, Phil’s eyelids fell shut, ignoring the sweat pouring off his brow. His heart beat hard against his ribs,  _ thud thud _ , and his whole body shook with the unimaginable force, and yet he had to try steadying himself, jest he not make it down unharmed. He swallowed down his pride, and his fear, and took a deep breath in. In, and then out, letting the gusts of air roll heavily across his dry lips.  _ Fearless, _ he reminded himself desperately.  _ Fearless, like Martyn. One step at a time.  _

His weight shifted from one foot to the other, and at the same time he let his eyes flew open, erratic. With small and careful steps, he began moving down to the next platform. He had only a few feet left, barely longer than his whole body (though he is quite tall by the time’s standards) and safer than the rest, being only a few feet of the rocky bottom ground.

Finally, Phil dropped down, heart hammering within his chest. His whole body shook, goosebumps deformed the surface of his pale skin, and glistening droplets clad his whole face, from forehead to cheekbone to the tip of his chin, where they hung off. 

Phil, only just recovering, steadied himself against a large boulder, knees shaking and about to give in beneath his trembling body. “I am never doing that again! Never!” he shouted into the nothingness around him, sinking to the floor, knowing full well he’d have to, simply to get back up. Unless there were any other, preferably safer, exits to the ravine, of course.

Heaving breaths in and out, he watched as the water sailed on by about twenty feet away. His fingers drummed against the floor where he sat, his leg bouncing as his subconscious tried to regain control. Fear is a terrible thing, and it may do as much as immobilize a human. Phil was extra susceptible to it, being a real scaredy cat in the best and worst of situations.

Now, if Dan had known so, and not even the extent of it, he wouldn’t have let Phil roam the valley alone. 

Dragons are the most powerful creatures, yet the most peaceful that roam the lands around here, because there are smaller terrors and monsters that are fiercer than them around. Some are even merciless.

Phil knew of neither of these two facts, and so, without a second thought, he got up and got himself a drink from the river once he’d calmed down. Then, rejuvenated, he hoisted his backpack up on his back once more, tightening the straps in a comfortable way, and set off down the ravine, following the glistening blue stream.

Down here, no shadows shielded him from the bright and scorching midday sun. After only minutes parading in the direct light, he could not only feel a difference to the chilly, misty, shadowy forest, but live it.

Sweat rolled down his back, gluing his shirt to it, and his hair quickly clammed, sticking to his forehead. The cuffs and hems of his clothes chafed uncomfortably against his skin, dry or soaked, and his boots quickly weighed him down, heavy with sweat and warmth, exaggerated by tiredness creeping up on him. The thick air around him oozed with heat, and the rays of sun bounced across the ravine, and up from the surface of the clear water, whose rippling echoed through the silence. 

Still, he continued walking, crossing cracks in the paling ground and passing ever familiar environments, all made from the same type of stone and never changing.

There was silence, for a moment; an echo occasionally; and then the crevice turned slightly, coming into shadows, and revealing birdsong. Phil rounded the corner, following the crook of the river, suddenly rolling downhill over rocks and branches as the forest came back into view. This far down the ravine, the walls weren’t as steep, and became more like hills extending into the landscape far above, covered in a thick layer of grass and dotted with trees. Pine and birch and oak broke from the dry ground, the rocky cliff-face mingling with patches of dirt. 

It was still a sparse landscape, but the running water now had to flow between vegetation, and the billowing ground made it more difficult for the stream to do so peacefully and straight, meaning it splashed and boiled much more violently. 

Phil trudged on, with only mild complications, watching his tired, heavy feet carefully so he wouldn’t trip over any stray branches or concealed pebbles in the knotted ground. Calls echoed from within the tangled woods, some more growly and louder than others. Only once did Phil flinch, and he nearly dropped his bag, that time. The growl had been loud, almost a howl, and sent shards of ice all the way into his bones. 

Soon enough, he saw a slope up ahead. Not too steep and not too cluttered, no bushes for creatures to hide behind, and just the perfect amount of dirt as surface to get up safely. With determined steps, he made his way over, and used a branch to hoist himself up, beginning the climb up the incline. 

The gravel and dirt rolled beneath his boots, making loud noise, and with a final look behind himself at the beautiful, glistening river, he left the ravine behind. 

He didn’t hear the scratching of claws against the cliff face, nor the heavy breaths of a spurring animal, before it became too late. And by then a shriek tore itself from his throat, face paling and fear running through his mind, making him come crashing to the ground, a single name taking his breath away as the twisted monster pounced. 

¨ ¨

Sailing through the faint clouds, Dan distracted himself from Samson‘s obnoxious rambling by concentrating his gaze upon the lands below. He had stretched his wings wide, and now sailed in a big oval shape over the center of the valley, the trees dotted like splashes of bright paint on a canvas of, well, paler green, all framed by the mountains around it. The seam, the ravine, cut through the middle, a violent gash, and it’s white sides glistened in the sun, so bright that even from such a height it stayed visible to the dragon’s eye.

Here, from the depths of the blue sky, no movement could be seen below. Not the billowing of the trees in the racing wind, nor the animals scuttling through the undergrowth. Still, Dan let his pupils follow the lines of the earth, grazing each patch of land from the smudges of dirt to the mountaintops above, still higher than they normally flew. 

An itch crawled beneath his skin, dancing along the edge of his face and up across his scalp, burrowing itself beneath the scales on the back of his neck. He twitched his nose, careful as to not obstruct his sight with smoke, trying to alleviate it. 

Still, he flew on.

On his third lap around, the itch moved, running like chills through his head before stopping above his browbone, explosive like a headache. Dan couldn't help but to growl loudly, faltering slightly in his flight, limbs quivering in the fast rushing air. It must’ve been obvious, because just as they passed through the cluster of cirrus clouds, the barrier of his mind crumbled once more. 

** _What are you doing? _ ** Samson asked, flapping his wings hard to gain speed. He spun, and he whipped his body around, snapping with his jaws as a signal, and then spurted forwards through the air. The epitome of speed and finess, expertise gained from 180 years as a dragon. He came to a rest by Dan’s side, making the latter roll his eyes. 

He had no intention of telling Samson anything, and that included a mysterious itch, no matter how bothersome, and no matter how mundane it might seem.  ** _Absolutely none of your business. _ ** he thought back, growling at the same time, spit dripping from his clenched jaw.  ** _So don’t ask again._ **

Sam bridled at him, raising his snout. And yet his tone changed, not to something sour, but to something teasing and exasperatingly smug.  ** _Have something to hide?_ **

Dan simply snapped his neck once more, scoffing. A puff of smoke rose from his flaring nostrils, matching the white clouds swirling around them, and he sailed on, deep shades of navy and turquoise painting the sky. The wind ruffled and whipped, searing his skin and sending cold chills up his spine, crawling deep beneath his scales.

And then his ears sharpened up.

Someone was screaming, in pain and for dear life, for fear. 

From  _ within  _ him. 

///

see, I was born the second child

with a spirit running wild, running free

and they saw trouble in my eyes

they were quick to recognize the devil in me

see, I was born a restless child

and I could hear the world outside calling me

and heaven knows how hard I tried

but the devil whispered lies I believed

can you hear it hanging on the wind?

can you feel it underneath your skin?

you've got to go on, further than you've ever gone

you've got to run far from all you've ever known

you've got to run far from all you've ever known

_ \- second child, restless child  _

_ song by the oh hellos _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a long time! but I'm back with this wonderful story, and I'm quite excited about it ᕦʕ •ᴥ•ʔᕤ I hope you will be too!

**Author's Note:**

> At the end of each chapter there'll be an original poem.. they'll have a special significance to a person, moment, or 'clue' within the chapter. 
> 
> Comments, feedback, and kudos appreciated! 
> 
> \- no I don't have a beta yet for this one -


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